The hinge squealed once, then quieted when the oil was applied.
Noah wiped the extra from the pin with a rag and pressed the door open and closed with a neat, patient rhythm, as if he had all the time in the world. Lachlan handed him the screwdriver without looking, eyes on the way the door finally stopped catching at the frame.
"That's better," Lachlan said. "Been meaning to fix it for weeks."
"Meant-to is half the battle," Noah returned, easy. He tightened the last screw, then rose in one smooth line and stepped back so Zubair could test the swing himself.
Zubair pushed the door once, listened to the hinge, and said nothing. Approval, in his language.
Alexei leaned with his shoulder against the wall, watching like a cat watches a mirror. "You're very useful," he drawled. "It's almost suspicious."
"Almost?" Noah smiled. "I can try harder."
Sera measured the exchange from the kitchen island, knife turning slow circles under a cloth.
